I went to this little vintage shop in Gent and when in I asked the guy if there was anything downstairs or upstairs. He told me (with heavy french accent): Downstairs is for bad people. But there's some furniture upstairs. I'd love to go downstairs but I figured out he didn't want me to. So I went upstairs. There was a very little furniture; in fact only a coffee table few lamps, and some freakish mannequins with wigs. But there was this little room with a clothes hanger and walls painted in pink. They were crammed with the most camp memorabilia you can imagine - models, boys who look like girls, and girls who look like boys, celebrities and other pop-culture crap - a teenage queer wet dream (or a nightmare). I was chuffed.
I am still bizarrely mesmerised by churches, their interiors and decorations. Be it chubby cherubs, angels, saints or martyrs. I'm sucker for the medieval heaviness and the smell of frankincense. If you have the same quirk Belgium is feast for you. Gothic or Baroque, immaculate Belgian churches prove that devil is in details